


a few short SGA ficlets & poetry things

by elizaria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-28
Updated: 2007-05-28
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:50:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaria/pseuds/elizaria
Summary: I'm archiving fic from my LJ, Insanejournal, DW and my defunct website (thank you waybackmachine) and these ficlets feels too short to post by themselves





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like jello…; McKay/Sheppard, slash, hurt comfort, PG
> 
> Title: Like jello…  
> Words: 662 words  
> Notes: Originally posted 25th May, 2007.

Sheppard ached all over. There wasn't a spot that wasn't tender or making that annoying crackling sound that reminds you of the fact that you're getting old. Getting doubleteamed by Ronon and Teyla was not an idea he was going to pursue anymore, and he'd thought it'd been such a cool idea. Maybe, just maybe McKay was right about him having a hero/suicide complex... It's just that the idea of he being the only one armed with sticks and then fighting Teyla and Ronon had sounded like a cool idea - he'd have a fighting chance. Except, not so much really. They just let him believe that for a little while until they decided to demonstrate just how damn good they really were at hand to hand combat.

Jeez, they didn't have to demonstrate so hard. He was pretty sure he'd have a handprint on his upper arm and a matching bruise on his shoulder where Ronon'd grabbed him and tossed him down on the mat. Luckily he didn't have to try and hide his limping old man gait for many more steps, his door was just within reach.

Once inside he struggled out of his clothes in a very ungraceful, two left feet kind of hurry, and stumbled into the hot shower. "Aaaaahhhhh", blissfully hot water that warmed him to the bones. He leant againt the wall once it'd warmed up by the heat of the steam, and just stood there. He could almost feel the muscles in his back trying to unknot.

When his skin was about the color of a cooked lobster he forced himself out of the shower and the few remaining steps that took him to his bed. He didn't even bother with a towel, just slumped across the bed and dug his face into the pillow, ready to go to sleep.

Except of course, it being a bad day just in general, his door chimed. "G'way!"

Rodney, being Rodney, didn't care much about what Colonel Sheppard could have possibly mumbled into his pillow so he strode into the room in his usual manner. "I met Teyla. She told me they roughed you up good."

"Teyla said that?" Sheppard just barely had the energy to move his head so he wouldn't have to talk with fabric in his mouth.

"Not in those exact words, no. Wow, look at you. You've been in the shower how long? You look cooked Colonel."

"Mrph."

"Shove over." Rodney sat down on the bed and not very gently pushed Sheppard aside so he would lie as Rodney wanted. "This hurt?"

"Ow. Yes! It's a bruise Rodney, they tend to hurt and would you stop poking me!"

"Be quiet. Just tell me if it really hurts okay?" Rodney grabbed Sheppard's hips and dragged him down a bit before he straddled his thighs. Wide hands fanned across Sheppard's aching shoulders, stroking and gently massaging before they dug into the sore muscles and pushed the knots to loosen up. Rodney paused occasionally to fill his hands with some kind of liniment that didn't smell too strongly, and made Sheppard's skin heat up and tingle pleasantly. He groaned deeply, with every piece of him relaxing more and more and he felt like he was slowly sinking into the madrass. Or like he was jello, all jiggly and loose.

Rodney laughed, "Jello huh?"

"D'I say'at outloud?" Sheppard tried to get his lips to speak, but they were getting pleasantly numb like the rest of his body.

"Yes you did, doofus. Roll over." A light slap on his hip as Rodney climbed off of him, and Sheppard fumbled himself over on his back. "Mrph."

"You look drugged." Rodney smiled at him.

"Mmhm. Am. Is."

"Drugged and incoherent to boot. Lucky I didn't expect a return favour out of you."

"Sleep now, blowjob later." Sheppard curled on his side and snuffled into Rodney's hip, falling asleep with Rodney's hands carding through his hair and a blanket draped over him.


	2. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch; McKay/Sheppard, slash  
> Originally posted June 7th, 2007.  
> Words: 197

Taste like coffee,  
on his lips from his tongue  
stubbleburn still fiery on his lips, cheek and fragile skin below his jaw  
These are the places Rodney kissed.  
  
His arms still feel the warmth of hands,   
across his back the ghost of touch gliding up and down,  
heat against his skin, sweat mingling as they grind closer.  
These are the places Rodney touched and made him feel.  
  
Nipples sore,  
marks on his throat, just below the collar.  
Above his thigh, in that sweet crease, bruises to be - still red and fresh.  
These are the places Rodney marked and made his.  
  
  
  
He burrows deep into his pillow and inhales, smelling Rodney;   
sweat, aftershave, sex - holding it inside as long as he can.  
Until he  _has to_  breath and let go.  
Hoping that his bed will keep smelling like this, like Rodney, like home.  
  
His voice makes him hard,  
angry and demanding or babbling and nervous - doesn't matter.  
It sends shivers down his spine that he has to hide, except Rodney sees.  
Now Rodney knows what he does, so he does it again - just to make John break out in goosebumps that he can lick and bite.


	3. Smallest pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Smallest pieces  
> McKay/Sheppard, slash, R  
> John/Rodney doodle. R rated? 448 words. Originally posted September 19, 2007.

Softest skin against John's fingers, hands, tongue - smooth and warm. Wet and hot when he's done with it. Sweet moaning and shifting body beneath his hands, that luscious ass pressed against his hips pushing up - grinding down.  
  
*  
  
But there will be no release to be found, not in the sweaty sheets Rodney grinds against nor in the heat and wiry curls against his back.  
  
Teasing, touching, playing. With his nipples, the stretch of his back, fingerprints on his hips and teethmarks on his shoulder. A deep whine escapes from his throat, the air a chill against his sweaty body, knees and thighs shaking as he's handled into place  
  
*  
  
John never tires of looking at the bow of Rodney's neck, his throat a long smooth line. Too smooth and unmarked for his taste, but they play by the rules. Collar is the limit, but it leaves the wide expanse of shoulders his map to make. Red is allowed. Blue is not.  
  
Teeth from last night, smothering a shout with skin, John so deep inside he forgot. Forgot to not leave any traces behind. No noises, no teeth, nothing above the collar, except simple bruises. Bruises you can blame on sticks and stones and slippery boots. Not hands aching to show they've touched, owned you for a few stolen minutes.  
  
*  
  
Rodney knows what he feels now won't show tomorrow, but he will go to the mirror and watch. Watch as they fade into white skin, skin flushed by heat, and sex and Johns stubble a pattern against his spine. A path where he whispered words, bit them into his body with teeth and lips, a language only Rodney will see in the mirror.   
  
It fades so quickly. The marks. But not the words. The words are gathered close, like pebbles smoothened by the water, flushed onto the shore. Just the smallest pieces for him to see.  
  
*  
  
Every word he can't say he writes into his skin, licks syllables into smooth grooves and stretched muscle. Rubs his chin against a strong arm and kisses its path when the words won't leave his lips. When they gather so close behind his teeth all he can do is hide his face and hold the skin between his jaws. Wishing Rodney could absorb them with John never having to speak the out loud, never having to face them.  
  
He thinks Rodney gets it, blue eyes speaking just as much as his mouth do but with a different set of words. So when John nuzzles his neck, nibbles on his ear and whispers his want - Rodney gets his need and responds with his body.   
  
Nothing is hidden, the same way Rodney has all of John.


	4. She sees everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [originally posted 2008-10-09]  
> Here's a little nothing 292 word drabble about a voyeristic Atlantis

If these walls could speak, if they could do more than the light sensation of whispers that slide through Sheppard every time he's home, Atlantis could tell you such stories.  
  
She would whisper in your ear, like water running across blank surfaces, filling her up till there's no sound left but what the air makes as it's forced out of every nook and cranny. Possibilities of futures, endless and unknown, where every living thing inside her walls die or leave her empty. Empty like a glass bubble filled with treasures, a trap waiting for you to find her so she can come alive. Only to die as every spark of energy gets used up when she alights with pleasure at having living things walking across her floors.  
  
She could tell you about the fleck of blood that the cleaners missed when they mopped the floor. Ronon hadn't been very worried about the drops falling off his arm as they came in hot. About the burn marks after the energy signature, and the way her spine rocked with electrical surges like pain all through her systems when her tower exploded.  
  
About the way her alcoves, and forgotten rooms help people hide. About soft kisses and eyes filled with wonder as they stare at each other through the dust and shadows. Fingerprints left on her windows as Sheppard leans to look out over open waters, his waist covered in bandages and the scent of blood and Wraith DNA is only visible to her sensors.  
  
When he's joined by McKay, and they stand shoulder to shoulder watching the dark fall she lets her lights dim. And when they gently kiss in the covering darkness, it's guarded by the gentle blue glow from a silent Atlantis.


	5. Professor X of Atlantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, I just realised my drugs apprently work better with food in the system. Mmm, floaty... So much love for latest SGA 3x15: 'Tao of McKay', so much love that I just want my blanket, fuzzy cat in my lap, and Rodney on my tv.
> 
> team ficlet, gen

"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Sheppard quickly turned his head down, looking the other way.  
  
"No, clearly something." Rodney waved a hand in Sheppard's face. He'd seen them all look at him, when they thought he didn't know. Didn't see. But it was too weird to think about. He was no good with the was-just-about-dead-but-miracously-survived. Also, he had no I'm-cool-and-do-this-close-to death-thing-a-lot free card like the Colonel. "Come on. Still jealous over the fact that  _I_  got to have superpowers?" And not you, wasn't said out loud but they heard it.   
  
"Why yes, Rodney. The superpowers that almost  _killed_  you." Sheppard drawled, but then ended up wincing at the end of the sentence.  
  
"Umm, yes, well. Aside from that..." Rodney made a face, like he'd just taken a bite out of something that tasted badly, but couldn't stop eating. It was just ... super powers! Rodney's king-of-the-world-powers and he'd been awesome and ... Damn that everything cool has to be *bad* for you. "I was totally Professor X of Atlantis."  
  
Sheppard snorted, "You wish!"  
  
"Who is this Professor X? One of those daredevils you mentioned?" Teyla sat down with them, her mug of tea steaming hot and making the ends of her hair curl a little as she leaned over.  
  
"No, bald guy with mental superpowers."  
  
"Well, you've got a head start on the baldness." Ronon rubbed his knuckles against Rodney's head.  
  
"I do not! Stop that! At least I don't have hair that looks like tails growing out of my head."  
  
Teyla just smiled as she watched them bicker over which comic book hero was the coolest, who had the best powers and who would easiest beat down the Wraith. Everything back to normal. Well almost normal. She glanced over at Ronon who was simply just observing the other two, not as animated as them but enjoying himself. He seemed ... more relaxed, perhaps even happy? Teyla thought it hard to say, it was more instinct than Ronon's strong features divulging any kind of obvious emotion.  
  
But she knew what Rodney had done, knew what burden he had helped Ronon with. Helped more than Ronon realised himself, Teyla thought. She doubted he knew how his posture had changed, like a prickly cat who had been soothed, tension easing off that Ronon didn't even acknowledge he'd been carrying. A tangent memory those scars, making the skin tighter across wide shoulders, obvious to her once she'd learned his patterns. The way Ronon rolled his shoulders when they trained, like he felt the ghost of being held back by some unknown force. The scars had been so much a part of Ronon.   
  
But now... She could see it, the way he shrugged now and then, easy movements and quick jerks he didn't think anyone saw. The resulting smile played in the corner of his mouth, making him seem like a little boy. Teyla was sure Rodney had no idea what a gift he'd given Ronon, but he would learn. Just the way Ronon paid more attention joking with Rodney, teaching him to fall right, how to block a punch. Ronon would never say it in words, but he would show it. In his boyish affectionate way, like a punch on the shoulder telling you you're an okay guy.


End file.
